Built of Metal

by SuperCeia

The London-based Overwatch team acquire three new agents on the cusp of an emerging omnic threat, and Angela feels like she's the only one giving Junkrat a chance.

8. Chapter 8

When the agents are brought back to headquarters for medical attention, Angela devotes herself entirely to Genji and Zenyatta, assessing the extent of their physical damage and finding out what exactly they were infected with. With the help of the Japanese research team her devotion eventually pays off, and after three solid days of scrupulous monitoring and testing, she's very happy to be giving both of them the all-clear on the Wednesday following their mission.

It's been tough, but Angela can't remember the last time she felt so relieved to be writing out someone's fitness certificate ready for their return to work. With no recollection of what happened prior to and after his abduction it's been impossible to figure out how those two men were capable of incapacitating and infecting Zenyatta like they did. Angela's job, however, is not to interrogate him on what happened, but to ensure that all traces of the virus in his system have been quarantined and removed for analysis. The virus controlling Zenyatta was transmitted wirelessly, a bespoke god program that slipped through the net of Overwatch's exceptionally robust antivirus software. It explains how Jesse and Genji were afflicted by the same issue without Angela being able to identify it, and while she'll never get those weeks of futile investigation back, it eases some of her guilt knowing that this was beyond Overwatch's realm of knowledge - and more specifically, beyond her own.

As the dust settles, news comes through from London that their deployment is officially coming to an end. Angela is writing up her final report on Wednesday evening, and she feels absolutely ready for their flight home on Saturday when the e-ticket pops up in her inbox. The deployment as a whole has been draining, but this week especially so - Angela is sure that she's spent more time in headquarters than she has done at home these last few days. Thank goodness all this time she's been putting in has been worthwhile in the end.

With the boys signed off and her report completed, Angela allocates Thursday morning for catching up on everyone else's condition. She hasn't checked in with anyone herself as the rest of the team have been taken care of by the other on-site doctors, but two email invitations come through from the nanotechnology clinic for her to personally sign off Jesse and Junkrat's cybernetics. She accepts Jesse's without a second thought, needing to know that his arm is working as it should, but Angela hesitates when it comes to Junkrat's, sitting back in her chair with something uncomfortable stirring inside her as she reads his name in the subject field.

She's been too rushed off her feet to dwell on it, but whenever she's had a moment to think about him it's been a struggle to reconcile her feelings. Junkrat was worryingly quick to put the blame on Zenyatta for what happened, and it's concerning that he seemed so willing to attack Zenyatta when he was supposed to be their backup for his rescue. Angela understands why Junkrat would do this – understands that he was acting in anger, in the heat of the moment – but it doesn't make his attitude towards one of their own any easier to swallow. She was really hoping that he'd have taken a more open-minded approach to meeting him.

In fairness, though, this was his first real encounter with Zenyatta, and unfortunately it wasn't a positive one. She also has to give him credit. Junkrat looked remorseful in the immediate aftermath and she can't blame him for defending himself against Genji. It was a terrible situation that none of them should've been in at all, and Junkrat had no choice but to fight him, being one of the only agents without any of Angela's technology to inhibit his movement. If it hadn't been another of Junkrat's never-ending surprises, it would be inconceivable to think that his self-made prosthetics ended up being such an advantage. Lifesaving, in fact.

The cursor hovers over the Decline button on Junkrat's appointment. Angela chews her lip, glancing down at her phone. It's on the desk next to the keyboard, having been mostly abandoned throughout this week while she's been so busy working on Genji and Zenyatta. Junkrat texted her a couple of times on Monday asking if she was okay, and she'd answered him then, asked if he was okay, too. Aside from that it's been days since they last spoke to one another, almost like he knows she hasn't been in the right frame of mind to talk to him.

But Angela would be lying to herself if she acted like she didn't want to see him again - properly, this time, outside of everything that happened. Her heart still clenches in her chest whenever she thinks about how selflessly he put himself between her and those omnics, how he dropped his weapon without hesitation to crouch down in front of her. His hands cupping her face and the way he looked at her, held her against him so tightly it hurt. She must've relived it a dozen times or more by now, always at night, the last thing on her mind before going to sleep. 'Course I'm here, like it was a given, followed by the distance she wishes she'd closed.

Angela can't believe she's even thinking of declining this. Before the mission she would've jumped at any opportunity to see him again, for any length of time, in or outside of work. It doesn't even seem real that he's here right now, finally in the same timezone, the same country, the same building as she is.

Well… she can't pretend that Junkrat's attitude isn't worrying, but she can't pretend she doesn't want to see him, either. It's also her duty to ensure that he's fit for work the same as it is any other agent. Her feelings should hold no bearing on this. Angela takes a breath and hits Accept instead.

It's only a fifteen minute appointment as all that's needed is a once over. Angela busies herself with paperwork, trying to reshape her indescribable feelings about seeing him into a professional need to assess his arm. There isn't time to fret over it, anyway – soon enough there's a knock at the door, metal on wood, and Angela remains seated as she would for anyone else attending an appointment in her office. She feels nervous when the door cracks open.

"Come in," she calls then.

Junkrat moves with caution, poking his head around the door before closing it and stepping inside. Angela's smile is trained and polite – the smile she offers all colleagues – but it doesn't last long. Junkrat looks drained, lacking his usual energy as he pulls up the chair opposite her and drops heavily into it. He smiles back at her but even that seems hesitant, like he's nervous, too, and Angela can see in his eyes that he's tired. Even his face isn't as dirty as usual. Angela somehow doubts this is because he's taken to bathing more in the few days he's been here.

"You look exhausted," she says, eyebrows knitting in concern. Junkrat laughs.

"Well, g'day to you too!" He rubs across his eyes with his human hand and blinks widely, trying to wake himself up.

"Sorry," Angela says, feeling terrible for instantly commenting on his appearance. "I just- are you alright? Is it the jetlag?"

"It's – yeah. Just jetlag," Junkrat says, shaking his head. He straightens up in his chair, smile wider now, more confident. "No need to worry about me!"

Angela should be convinced by this, but she regrets mentioning jetlag when it feels so much like it's an excuse for something else.

"Are you sure?" she asks, looking at him searchingly. Junkrat scratches his neck.

"Jesus, I don't look that bad, do I?"

He's still smiling, but there's embarrassment in his eyes that makes Angela feel even worse. He's gone a little red.

"I- no, not at all," she says, clearing her throat. She turns her attention back to the monitor, needing a distraction from Junkrat's eyes on her.

"Good! Had me worried for a moment there." He laughs again, uncertainly this time.

Angela is very aware that her hands have gone clammy. Why is this so… awkward? She's been desperately looking forward to seeing him again but now that he's here it's like the air around them is stifling, bursting at the seams with everything she wants to ask, to say.

"Sorry," she says. "Just, um. Wanted to make sure you're alright, after- everything."

"Angie, I'm fine. Seen enough bloody doctors this week to know." His smile falters when she chances a look at him. "Are, uh. You alright?"

Now it's Angela's turn to laugh. What's going on? In all the time they've spent talking she doesn't think things have ever felt so stilted between them, like neither one of them knows quite what to say.

"I'm fine, yes, thank you," she says, cursing herself for sounding so stiff. "Very glad the week is almost over."

"Tch, typical," Junkrat says, folding his arms. "Can't believe I've been here all of five days and already everyone's buggerin' off!"

Angela's smile comes naturally as she brings up his medical profile, grateful that if Junkrat is aware of the tension between them, he's doing a better job than she is of pretending it isn't there.

"It would have been nice to have some time to unwind, I must admit," she says.

"Think you've earned it after all this," he says. "Shame we couldn't have gone for karaoke or something."

Angela hasn't done any karaoke in all the time she's been here. It would probably be a lot of fun with Junkrat – and the others too, actually, but somehow nobody has suggested it. Angela supposes she's been too keen to get home in the evenings. Going out with the others for more than just a meal hadn't even crossed her mind, outside of a few weekend group outings.

"That's true. I'm sure you'd be looking forward to going home too though, if you'd been here for two months," she says.

He's quiet for a moment. "Wish I had been here for the last two months to be honest," Junkrat mumbles, then.

Angela's stomach flips over. She turns to face him, meeting his eyes. Junkrat's smile is bashful now and it sends her heart into her throat, his expression so honest and open it takes her a moment to remember where they are, why he's sitting here with her. There's no time to broach the delicate subject of the mission, so there certainly isn't time to even begin deconstructing their texts, his rescue, everything that's been left unspoken between them since he arrived.

"I'd better take a look at your arm," she says, breaking eye contact to focus on his prosthetic. She gestures for him to bring it across the desk that separates them. "We don't have a lot of time, Jesse will be in after you."

"Oh. Right, gotcha," Junkrat says, leaning over and offering it without hesitation, unlike the last time she asked to have a look. Suddenly the three months that've passed since their first meeting seem like years, yet Angela can't believe how she's come to care so much for him in what has really been a very short amount of time - especially since the majority of it has been spent in separate countries. Even now, with her lingering concern about his attitude during the mission, Angela's heart is beating fast as ever just from being in his presence. Seems like she missed Junkrat even more than she realised.

Anyway, she needs to focus on work, not on how she feels. Now isn't the right time. They probably need to get back home before she can properly assess how best to go about this… whatever it is that's hanging in the air between them.

"Whaddya reckon then?" Junkrat asks, after she's had a gentle poke around his arm. Angela frowns, still focused on his fingers, gently spreading them apart to see the wiring around the joints.

"Think it's going to need a bit of a fix when we return," she says. "I assume you've already patched it up yourself?"

"As much as I can here, yeah. Didn't bring half me stuff along what with our departure being so sudden."

Angela glances up at him. Junkrat's got his chin in his human palm, looking at the rest of her office. There isn't much to see in here, just a sparsely populated bookshelf that houses some Japanese language guides and medical textbooks. She hasn't spent long enough here to deck her office out, really. Yet another unfinished space.

"I'm, um. Surprised that you didn't text me to say you were coming," she says, quietly. Junkrat's eyebrows lift up at her. He's red again, probably wasn't expecting her to bring it up. Neither was she, actually.

"Believe me, Angie, I wanted to," he says, sounding serious now, frowning. "But they told us if we blew our cover it mighta put you lot in even more danger. Couldn't have that."

Angela swallows. She draws a breath to say something but Junkrat startles her by taking her hand in his, the metal cool on her clammy skin.

"S'the hardest bloody secret I've ever kept. You can trust me on that one," he says, so deeply it sends a shiver down her spine. Junkrat's eyes are intense as they gaze into hers, and it's a struggle to find her breath again, pulse quick in her throat. Angela wets her lips. At least he won't be able to feel the sweat, she thinks, having to break his gaze and look down - down at the metal hand that saved her life, belonging to the man she hasn't stopped thinking about for weeks.

"Thank you," she says, then, a shaky breath. Junkrat squeezes her hand.

"No need for that. Just glad you're alright. And that, y'know, you're not tellin' me I need a new bloody arm," he adds then, laughing.

"Gosh, no, absolutely not," she says, breathing out a laugh of her own. She smiles sadly at him. "You've made an excellent case for yourself, to say the least. I'd hate to think of what would've happened if you'd been affected, too. If I'd been foolish enough to force you into using my technology way back then."

Oh, god. She wasn't planning on coming out with this – has been trying not to think about it at all, overwhelmed with guilt whenever it's crept into her mind. Angela bites her lip and looks away from Junkrat, only for him to reach out with his human hand, too, commanding her attention by holding her hand in both of his.

"Ohhh no no," Junkrat tells her, scowling. "Nohohoooo way. Don't think I'm gonna sit here and listen to that rubbish, not when you've been working your bloody arse off trying to fix everyone's problems all on your pat!"

Angela isn't familiar with this expression, but she's immediately endeared to it knowing it's probably Australian slang. He must be referring to the lack of help she received last month, trying to figure out what was going on with the boys completely on her own.

"Won't have you beating y'self up over something that don't need worrying about," Junkrat adds. His eyes are intense, unwavering has they look into hers. "Understand?"

Angela's throat is constricted by the inability to put her gratitude into words. She just about manages a nod, and the severity on Junkrat's face loosens.

"Good," he puffs out, like he's exhausted from the effort of being strict. That bashful smile from before pulls over his lips and he squeezes her hand again. "Sheesh. Y'know, Angie, I really-"

A sudden and insistent knock makes both of them jump. Angela jerks back into her chair, eyes darting between Junkrat and the door.

"I- I think – we'll have another look at your arm when we're back in London," she says, hurriedly. "I'll email Dr. Kanzaki and let her know that I'm happy to sign you off for now."

"Sure! Yeah, that's – that'd be great!" Junkrat says, flustered and embarrassed again as he stands back up.

"I'll, ah – see you later?" Angela asks, standing up with him, once again having to say goodbye when she isn't at all ready.

"You best had," Junkrat says, grinning over at her before he opens the door. "See ya later, Angie."

Angela waves him away and greets Jesse with all the composure she can muster, trying to focus while she checks over his arm. The Japanese team helping her with Genji and Zenyatta have invited her out to dinner tonight for a goodbye party, otherwise she would've been tempted to ask if Junkrat wanted to just – go out, have a proper catch up outside the confines of work. A couple of drinks, maybe, those drinks she owes him that he still hasn't forgotten.

God, what was he going to say? Oh, why, why couldn't they have had more time!

She signs Jesse off and stews over what on earth to do when she's on the train after her shift. Even Jesse said during his appointment that he wishes they could've had one last dinner together as a big group, but Angela doubts that'll be on the cards now that Junkrat and Roadhog are here. For all of her wonderful feelings about him, she can't see Junkrat getting along too well with Genji. He might not want to go out at all if Zenyatta was to come along for a final meal together, an acutely disappointing thought that makes Angela feel guilty for being so excited to see him again. It's frighteningly easy to forget Junkrat's awful attitude towards omnics when he's so incredibly charming and sweet with her.

Angela wants to be optimistic, though, and wonders if perhaps both Junkrat and Genji may want to patch things up before leaving. They're still coworkers, after all, and regardless of Junkrat's attitude, the mission was a success. It should've been clear to him by the end of it all that Zenyatta wasn't at fault.

An idea strikes at the dinner table when Angela and her colleagues are waiting to be served. She's barely had any time to enjoy herself in all the weeks she's spent in Japan, and as they're all returning to London on the same flight, surely it couldn't hurt to ask.

Angela downs the rest of her wine for an extra burst of courage, and opens up a new group chat on her phone. She adds everyone in – Hana, Genji, Jesse and now Junkrat – and types out a message to all of them while her colleagues chatter in Japanese around her.

Hi all. :) Just had a thought. As we're flying out on Saturday, I was wondering if we should make the most of our final night here in Tokyo and go out for a nice meal. If you'd like, you would all be welcome to stay the night at my house in Setagaya so we can travel to the airport together in the morning. I have plenty of futons, a spare bedroom, and a couch, so if this sounds good, let me know and bring your suitcases to HQ tomorrow!

She hits send immediately, not wanting to waste time or convince herself that she's being stupid. What's the use in having a nice home here if she can't even invite her friends over? It's also late already, so if they do want to take her up on this Angela needs to know now so she can prepare the necessary bedding tonight. It would be wonderful to have guests for a change, and at least her Japanese house isn't an unfinished mess like her country home back in England. Considering how much she's loved going to dinner with the other agents – even coming out now with her Japanese coworkers - Angela hasn't been assertive enough about arranging social events for herself.

It also means she'd be able to spend more time with Junkrat before they all return home. Perhaps they could all do karaoke, seeing as he wanted to go so much. Hopefully he'll be up for coming over, anyway, though she can't really see him saying no to it, not after all of their texts.

Angela is confident that she'll get a positive response from everyone, but she's still nervous while waiting to hear from them. Her colleagues provide an ample distraction in the meantime, and after their food has been served and her phone starts to ping with messages, Angela's anxiety gives way to excitement as she reads the preview banners appearing on her home screen.

Jesse
Sounds great to me doc.

oh wow like an Overwatch slumber party?

Jesse
Ugh. Well, I was gonna say yes, but now I'm not so sure…

oh come ONnnn Jesse don't be such a baby!
btw can Lúcio come too? :3a

Jesse
You sure you're gonna have room for all of us?

Junkrat
Consider me there! Lol

Angela brightens. Yes! She knew he'd be up for it! She types her reply quickly, not wanting to be rude when she's supposed to be celebrating with her colleagues.

Angela
Yes, there's plenty of room for everyone!
Hana please do invite Lúcio, I didn't have his number to hand.
Junkrat I don't have Roadhog's number either, so please feel free to invite him as well.

Junkrat
Will do :P

Angela
We can sort out who is sleeping where tomorrow. So long as I know how many, I can get everything prepared tonight.

Jesse
Alright, if you're sure.

Genji
Thanks for the invite :) but Zenyatta and I will sit this one out. Hope you all have fun.

Jesse
What, don't you want in on our "slumber party"? Lol

I'll braid your hair and everything ;)

Lúcio
uh, dibs on the braiding
also thanks for the invite, doc!

lmao like your braiding skills are better than mine

Lúcio
dude, I learned from my little sister. My braids are SICK

Genji
Haha. Thank you, but we will see you tomorrow to say goodbye after the debriefing :)

Oh. This isn't quite what she was hoping to hear from Genji, and she'd completely forgotten about the debriefing tomorrow. Angela knows Zenyatta will handle the situation as gracefully as ever, but she isn't so sure about the other two, picturing an argument or even another fight if Genji can't understand Junkrat's omnic-related misgivings, or if Junkrat's anger hasn't cooled off.

Pointless worrying about that now, Angela thinks, preoccupied with the cheers going around the table as her colleagues clink their glasses. She's sad that Genji and Zenyatta won't be joining them, but there's a tiny part of Angela that's slightly relieved by it, too, comforted by the idea of being able to have a night out with almost everyone without worrying about any clashes or unease. She'll just have to say her goodbyes to Genji and Zenyatta tomorrow, separately.

Angela is merry on her way back to Setagaya after dinner, her Japanese colleagues having bought her some exquisitely wrapped gifts in thanks for her hard work. She feels warm all over when she's back home – from a lovely evening, the excitement of having guests, the knowledge that she's returning home - and pours herself a green tea before getting out the futons and bedding in preparation for tomorrow, now that she knows who's coming to stay.

Tomorrow, she thinks, grinning helplessly to herself while pulling out the bed linen. Tomorrow is finally her last day here!

Angela's excitement keeps her giddy throughout the following morning. She says her goodbyes to the Japanese medical and nanotechnology teams and then after lunch she's in the boardroom with the rest of the agents, waiting for their videoconference with London. They're also waiting for Junkrat and Roadhog to arrive as they seem to be running late. Genji and Zenyatta are in good spirits, though, and so far nobody has commented on the Junkers, which Angela takes to be a positive sign. Perhaps there's no reason to be nervous after all.

When the Junkers arrive shortly before the meeting is due to start they take a seat by the doorway, meaning they're opposite Genji and Zenyatta around the other side of the boardroom. Angela can feel Genji bristle beside her, and while she was beginning to wonder if things might just be alright, she notices that the other agents seem to be looking over at the Junkers uncertainly.

Angela makes eye contact with Junkrat for about a second before the videofeed comes on. In that second he smiles at her easily, and Roadhog offers her a little wave, too. Well, at least they don't seem angry, she thinks, but she's still nervous, hoping their friendliness will set the tone for the rest of the day.

"So, you've been given the all clear by Dr. Ziegler?" asks a suit, about two hours into the conference.

"I have, yes, thank you," Zenyatta tells him. The suit nods his approval.

"Excellent, that's what we like to hear. Have you been able to remember anything prior to your abduction?"

Angela frowns at this, wishing they could at least pretend to be more concerned about Zenyatta's wellbeing.

"I am afraid not," he says, with a soft shake of his head. "Should I recall anything in the coming days, or even weeks, I will be sure to inform you as soon as possible."

The suit opens his mouth again but Winston leans forward, cutting him off before he can ask anything else.

"So long as you're alright, that's all we're concerned about," Winston says, smiling confidently.

"We're still trying to work out what exactly happened with our comms link to you guys," says another suit, offering a haphazard laugh. "Rest assured that it won't happen again, though."

Angela purses her lips. Her eyes flick over to Jesse, and in that moment he acknowledges her with slightly raised eyebrows. Neither of them can say anything while they're on the videofeed, but it's appalling that this is probably the only 'apology' they're going to receive for being so thoroughly let down during the mission. The meeting continues, anyway, and Angela has to swallow down her disgust while Winston talks them through what happened in London, when Lúcio and the Junkers were deployed. He must have surmised from her reports that additional resources were needed who wouldn't be hindered by any malfunctioning cybernetics.

The atmosphere in the room is tense as the meeting pans out. Angela can't tell if it's due more to the lingering animosity between Junkrat and Genji or the peripheral anger amongst all of them with the idiots on the other end of the call - except for Winston, of course. Hours later when the debriefing is finally over, the agents filter out of the boardroom. More than anything it's a relief to be standing up again, moving after sitting for hours, but as soon as Angela leaves the room a cold weight drops in her belly.

Genji and Junkrat are staring at each other. Roadhog and Zenyatta are standing beside them, and by the coffee machine Hana, Lúcio and Jesse have prickled up, watching and waiting with bated breath to see what's about to happen.

It's jarring to see them like this, Genji in a smart shirt and pants, Junkrat in a hoodie and shorts while they glare at one another. Like chalk and cheese, Angela thinks, on edge as neither one of them says a word. Are they… are they really going to fight, in casual clothing, on their last day working together?

"Genji," Zen says, gently, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Genji's eyes narrow, but he doesn't look away from Junkrat. He takes a step forward.

Junkrat's arms unfold. Roadhog gives him a shove, and he grumbles as he steps forward then, too.

Angela holds her breath. She's terrified, dreading to think who's going to throw the first punch - only for Genji to sharply extend his hand, and Junkrat to take it instantly, grasping it tight.

"I am sorry for attacking you," Genji says, stiffly.

Angela gasps.

"Sorry for what I said," Junkrat says back, the words clunky and forced but there. They're still glaring at one another, but they shake hands, then, a curt but polite movement. Genji steps back so that Zenyatta can move forward in his place, and then he extends his hand to Junkrat, too.

"Please accept my sincere apologies for causing you such understandable alarm," he says, softly. Junkrat hesitates, eyes flicking over Zen like he's still wary, but then he takes Zen's extended hand and shakes it.

"You're alright," Junkrat grumbles. He doesn't smile, but the scowl that was so pronounced on his face has softened, and Angela feels like she needs another four hour meeting so she can sit down and recover from the shock of all this.

Luckily, Genji appears in front of her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Angela," he says, warmly now, scars twisting as he smiles at her. "I cannot begin to thank you enough for all that you've done for Zenyatta and I."

Angela laughs breathily, having come dangerously close to fainting. "You've already thanked me, Genji. You know that I'll always do anything I can to help you – help both of you, anytime."

Suddenly, Genji pulls her into a hug. "I hope that we can see each other again soon."

"Me too," she tells him honestly, smiling as she hugs him back. It's only a brief squeeze, but it's more than enough to reaffirm their closeness despite how little they see one another these days. She's sure she can feel Junkrat's eyes on her, but when she glances across from over Genji's shoulder he's looking away, standing beside Lúcio who's patting Zenyatta on the back.

Angela lets go of Genji and finds herself sad that this is the last time she'll be seeing him for a while, but brimming with pride at his maturity. What a fine young man he's become, she thinks, watching as he turns to say his goodbyes to the rest of the team.

"S'a damn shame he didn't wanna come with us," Jesse sighs, when they're on the elevator down to reception. Angela smiles at him.

"I imagine he wants to spend time with Zenyatta, after everything that's happened. They've spent the better part of a week quarantined away from one another."

"Mm. Well, here's hoping they might come over for the Christmas party, if there even is one."

Angela laughs. "Gosh. It's Halloween next week, isn't it? I assume nothing has been organised?"

"Afraid not," Lúcio sighs. "Winston told us before we were posted out that he's had no time at all to arrange anything."

"Awww, that's no fun! I was so looking forward to another party!" Hana says. It's only the four of them in this elevator as they're smaller than the ones in London, too cramped for five plus Roadhog.

"It'll be December before you know it," Angela tells her. "If he hasn't been able to do anything for Halloween, I'm certain he'll do something extra special for Christmas."

The six of them regroup in reception, saying their final goodbyes to the receptionist who hands over their suitcases. And then they're leaving, exiting headquarters for the last time before returning to the UK. Unfortunately it's rush hour, the worst possible time to leave judging by how packed the station platform is. With suitcases in tow this is more of a predicament than usual, and Angela wonders how they're going to fit on the same carriage amongst all the businessmen waiting for the train. She's also aware that the Junkers are sort of staying back from the rest of them – that Junkrat looks unhappy, and Roadhog has his arms folded, seemingly unimpressed. Angela gestures for them to come closer. It takes another nudge from Roadhog, but Junkrat steps up to the group, then, not unhappy so much as he is sheepish all of a sudden.

The train pulls in just as Angela goes to ask him what's wrong, and Jesse holds his arm out to allow Hana and Lúcio onto the train first. Roadhog serves to not only be an excellent barrier against the swarm of businessmen vying for a spot, but also a deterrent, and with Jesse inside the carriage Roadhog steps in to create enough space for Angela and Junkrat. It's a struggle even with Roadhog body blocking for them, but eventually the doors close, and Angela breathes a sigh of relief as the train begins to move. Thank goodness they were all able to fit in together!

"You, er, alright there?" Junkrat asks her, quietly.

Oh. They're hemmed in by the doorway, Junkrat leaning back against the glass partition and Angela standing in front of him, holding onto the pole by his side. There's just enough space between them to be comfortable, and Roadhog is acting as a barricade between them and the rest of the passengers, but if more people get on at the next station Angela is alarmed to see that there's only way she'll be able to move. At the same time, though… it is quite nice to be close to him like this.

"I'm – yes, I am," she says, looking up at him. "Are you? You seemed a little off, just now."

"What? Nah, I'm- I'm fine!" Junkrat chuckles, an unconvincingly nervous sound. "Never better!"

She frowns at him. Junkrat bares his teeth in what he must assume to be a confident smile. Knowing she won't get a proper answer from him, Angela sighs. At least he doesn't look as tired today.

"Well, I was very impressed, you know," she says, changing the subject.

"Y'were?" Junkrat blinks. "Uh, what with?"

Angela's eyes flick down to Junkrat's hoodie. It's bright orange with yellow accents, an eyesore on this train so full of black and navy business suits. He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and she smiles at how soft it looks and how strange it is for him to wear something like this, so used to seeing him shirtless. Junkrat must like being warm.

"With your apology. To those two, back in headquarters," Angela says. She's looking at one of the patches he's sewn over the shoulder. At least, she assumes he's sewn it, as it's one of his scary smiley faces and the thread is slightly wonky, like it was done on a whim.

"Oh," Junkrat says. He's blushing when she looks back up at him, but he's staring out of the window, watching the city pass them by. "Well. Y'know. Anything to keep the peace, I s'pose."

Angela scoffs. "You? Keeping the peace?"

"Yeah? What about it?" he asks, squinting down at her. He's grinning, though.

"Nothing, nothing at all," she says, airily.

The train sways. Junkrat straightens up like he's ready to catch her, but Angela's grip on the pole couldn't be any tighter, using all of her core strength not to fall into him. The train is pulling into the next station now, coming to a stop. Angela glances out to see a swarm of tired looking salarymen about to pour inside.

"I think we're about to get squashed," she says, smiling nervously.

The doors open, and in come the barrage of people. Angela braces herself to be crushed – and she is, instantly, though not in the way she's expecting. Junkrat curves his human arm around her waist and tugs her against him, cheek flattened to his chest, head tucked neatly under his chin. Even now, swamped in the hoodie, she can smell that diesel scent from before and feel the warmth radiating from his body. Oh no.

"Sorry," he murmurs, dipping down so that his voice is by her ear. "Just hold on a sec and I'll letcha go when we move again."

Angela's entire body shivers. She didn't think it was possible to be this happy about being squashed in a rush hour train.

"That – that's okay," she says, quietly, breathlessly. She takes her hand off the pole to hold onto him instead – to wrap her arms around his waist, keep them pressed close. Junkrat squeezes her like it's his way of saying that he wants to stay like this, too, and she's so close she can hear his heartbeat, a fast paced pulsing that seems on par with her own.

Angela peeks up at his face. She's too short, too squished against his chest to see his expression, but she can tell that he's blushing, glaring at the men pushing their way inside and occasionally knocking into her. Junkrat holds her tighter still, and he's so strong, his body feels so solid and sturdy against hers that Angela grips the soft fabric of his hoodie, closing her eyes and drinking in how incredible this feels.

They stay like this for the next four stops. Bliss is probably a fitting term, but even that doesn't seem strong enough for the emotion flooding into her. Somewhere between the third and the fourth stop some of the commuters start jostling one another, rearranging themselves ready to get off, and Angela feels the press of something soft against her hair.

"I've gotcha," Junkrat murmurs, his breath warm in the same spot, and Angela's heart clenches so painfully she has to grip at his hoodie again.

Did… did he really just… kiss her?

The doors open up, and half of the train seems to evacuate. Angela is breathless, not wanting to let go of him at all, not ever, but the others might see now that there's space in the carriage so she has to. Her face is hot, so hot she wouldn't be surprised if all her makeup has melted when she dares to meet his eyes, but when Junkrat just grins shyly back at her it feels like her heart might melt as well.

Angela stands close to him when the train moves again, unsure of what to say. Even Junkrat's gone quiet, both of them looking elsewhere even though they're right in front of one another. She was really looking forward to this evening not just to spend more time with him, but to have fun with all the others too. Now, all Angela wants is to stay here and let every other passenger and all the other agents leave until it's just the two of them alone together, right here on this train. She thinks she could travel forever if it meant staying close to him like this.

Her heartbeat is a powerful thrum in her chest. If there was any doubt in Angela's mind from the texts, there certainly isn't any now. It's impractical tonight, but this time next week, Angela tells herself. This time next week she's going to go on that date with Junkrat, even if it's the last damn thing she does.

"This is our stop," she says, tapping on Roadhog's back when they arrive. He turns slowly and then the other three appear beside him, chatting obliviously. Angela is grateful for their distraction, for Roadhog having his back to them all this time. She's too shy to look at Junkrat again when the train doors open, but she can't stop smiling as she steps off – isn't sure she'll ever stop smiling again, after that.

She guides them through her neighbourhood, giddy from what's undoubtedly been the greatest train journey of her life, and then they're here, they're all here at her house. Angela unlocks and leads everyone through to the foyer, and the boys seem pleasantly surprised to see that there are slippers lined up for them already.

"Genji would be very proud," Jesse tells her, smirking. Angela hums.

"Well, when in Rome, as the old saying goes. Shoes off please!"

He chuckles, doing as he's told, and heads through into the sitting room with the others. Angela feels an instant need to offer tea now that they're inside, but she hangs back, anxious as she watches Junkrat struggling. He's braced himself with his human hand against the wall and is using the other to try and pull his single shoe off.

"Need a hand?" she asks, reaching out to him when he wobbles.

"Oh, very funny!" Junkrat says. He's laughing though, manages to pull it off without assistance, and then straightens up. "Phew. Think I need a leg more to be honest."

Angela sighs around a smile, fonder of him in this moment than she thinks she ever has been before.

"The offer is still open," she says, sing-song as Junkrat steps into the one slipper she's laid out for him. He comes up to her then, so close it takes Angela back a bit, even though she's just spent most of the journey here in his arms.

"Oh yeah? What offer's that then?" he asks. Junkrat is grinning at her, in her face as though she's about to pull out a handwipe and scrub him clean – or maybe like he's going to tug her body against his again, a far more exhilarating thought.

"The offer of a new leg, of course," Angela says, looking him over. Suddenly it's a struggle to speak. "What did you think I meant?"

Junkrat laughs. It's a deeper sound than usual, something that thrills Angela to the core, and he looks down at the space between them, still grinning as he bites his lip.

"Shit, Angie," he mumbles. "Dunno if I can tell ya when there are kids about."

Oh. Oh god.

"This house is insane!" Hana announces, rushing out into the foyer. "Doc, how'd you score somewhere like this?!"

Angela smiles around at her. At least, she hopes she smiles, because it sort of feels like her body has gone numb.

"It's – I bought it at a good time," she answers, the words not sounding real even when they're out of her mouth. Junkrat moves past her then, whistling as he goes to join the others like he hasn't just set her face on fire. Forget next week, Angela thinks, heart pounding as she follows Hana back in. How on earth is she going to get through this evening with him when they're flirting this much already?

Thankfully, being a host keeps her so thoroughly occupied that she doesn't have time to succumb to her excitement. Everyone is happy sitting in the lounge, chatting about the debriefing and the busy week they've all had while spread across the floor and the couch. Angela pours out tea and coffee for them, dashes up and down the stairs with Lúcio, who's kind enough to help her with everyone's suitcases, and double checks the clean towels she has available in case anyone would like to bathe later on. The sleeping arrangements they discuss mean that Hana is sharing Angela's bedroom, Jesse is on the fold out couch downstairs, and Lúcio and the Junkers are spread across the single bed and futons in the spare bedroom. With this settled, and everyone suitably loosened from a comfortable respite in Angela's home, she herds everyone back out of the house so they can get back on a train and into Tokyo for dinner.

There's no opportunity to squash herself in with Junkrat now that rush hour has passed, but Angela is delighted simply to be surrounded by her friends on their last night here. The afternoon has turned into evening, bringing with it a cold breeze and the illuminations of the city at night, and they're heading back to Uchi for their final meal, Hana animatedly telling Lúcio and the Junkers about how amazing their ramen is. Angela sits opposite all of them with Jesse, grinning to herself.

It seems crazy to think that a couple of months ago she would've been watching Lúcio, looking out for his reaction to Hana's enthusiasm. Instead, her eyes are on Junkrat, the huge smile on his face as he listens to Hana and how impossibly handsome he is even in that damn hoodie - no, because of it, especially now that she knows just how soft and warm it is. She actually wishes she could text Lena about it, wanting to share what she's feeling for him and how blown away she is by everything he's done for her. There's a threat of sadness when she realises that Lena's reaction probably wouldn't be as happy as Angela would like, but then Junkrat glances across at her, catching her before any sadness can settle. When he smiles, she's convinced he knows exactly what she's thinking – knows that she's thinking about him – and in this moment, gazing at one another from across the carriage, Angela doesn't think having a crush has ever felt so good, even if she doesn't have anyone else to share it with.

The air around the team is buzzing as they walk down to Uchi, a mix of nationalities chattering loudly through the streets of Toshima, and the chefs recognise them when they arrive, crowing out a greeting as they file inside. Angela isn't particularly hungry, too high on adrenaline to have much of an appetite, but she's happy to be sitting along this bar again with Jesse on one side of her and Junkrat on the other. It's exhilarating just sitting next to him, the occasional brush of his human arm against hers from how close they are.

"Don't feel right bein' here without those two," Jesse muses, tracing his metal finger around the rim of his glass. They've been here for a while now, bowls empty and Junkrat deep in conversation with Hana about making her a new MEKA. Angela furrows her brows at him.

"I thought you were quiet," she says.

"Just tired I guess," Jesse sighs. Angela's frown grows more pronounced, and she reaches out to put her hand gently over his arm. He's been more quiet than usual this evening, though Angela can't see tiredness being the sole cause. It isn't like Jesse to look so morose.

"I'm sure they would've come along were it not for the week they've had," she says.

"I know, I know."

"You're right, though, it isn't the same without them here."

It isn't, but Angela has been so wrapped up in everything else that she hasn't been particularly put out by their absence, sadly. She feels guilty for it, too, but not guilty enough to stop herself from enjoying all the times Junkrat's bumped his arm against hers tonight, the way he's leaned in a little closer than necessary whenever he's gone to tell her something.

"Aren't you looking forward to going back to London?" Angela asks, then.

Jesse takes the toothpick he's been chewing out of his mouth. He sets it down and smiles at her, but there's something sad about it that doesn't have Angela convinced.

"Sure I am," he says. "Gotta say I'm a bigger fan of the Far East than I thought I would be, though."

Angela tries to hold his eyes, but Jesse looks away from her again, back to toying with his glass.

"Shame we don't do this back in London," he adds. Angela pats his arm, sighing.

"I've become quite a fan of it myself. Perhaps we should pitch it to Winston when we're back."

Jesse scoffs. "I'm sure that'll go down well with upper management."

"Well, perhaps Winston may also decide that they don't necessarily need to know about it," Angela says, slyly. Jesse's eyebrows lift up at her in surprise and his smile is bigger now, genuine.

"Woah now, look at you, Miss Rulebreaker."

Angela takes a surreptitious sip of water. Hah. That'll be the day!

"GUYS!" Hana says suddenly, making the two of them snap to attention. "We need. To do karaoke. Right now."

"You're telling me you guys have been here all. This. Time. And you haven't done ANY karaoke?!" Lúcio says, leaning over with his hands on the table. He's on the other side of the bar with Roadhog, gaping at them incredulously.

"Sadly," Angela tells him. Even Roadhog is shaking his head as though they've committed some terrible crime in not going. "Would you like to?"

"I ain't nearly drunk enough to get started on any of that," Jesse laughs, shaking his head, but Hana has already stood up to tug insistently on the back of his leather jacket.

"Then we'll hit up a combini, get some drinks, and go! Come on, Jesse, we have to! It'll be so much fun!"

He grunts, looking down at his glass. Angela leans over a little, just enough to catch his eye and offer him a hopeful smile, and then he's groaning, pushing himself away from the bar.

"On the condition that we grab some beers, fine."

And then they're off to the nearest convenience store, Hana leading the way with her arm hooked around Jesse's. Lúcio has a backpack with him, so once they've loaded up from the alcohol chiller and confectionary aisle they hide their supplies away, and Hana marches them into the nearest karaoke shop, speaking fluently to rent them a booth for the evening. The elevators here are even smaller than the ones in HQ, meaning it takes three trips to get them all up to the tenth floor. Angela hangs back, allowing the others to go on ahead in the hopes that Junkrat might hang back with her. He does, of course, until it's just the two of them going up in one, Roadhog having gone with Lúcio instead.

Angela steps in and selects the tenth floor. She stands beside him when the door closes, hot and shivery now that they're sharing this space alone. She doesn't remember feeling this strongly from any of her crushes in college, so physically affected just from being near someone. It's wonderful, though, especially knowing that Junkrat wanted this too.

"Wonder what your singing voice is like," he hums, bumping his human arm against her. Angela chuckles, bumps him back.

"Terrible, as you could probably guess."

"Pfft. Bet it's not."

"You'll find out soon enough," she says, trying to repress her delight.

Junkrat slings his arm around her shoulder and brings her into a sudden embrace. She goes easily, amazed at how casually he's done this, how it's just- nothing for him to pull her against him now, apparently. Angela allows herself to clutch briefly at the front of his hoodie from where she's pulled in close, but then there's that warmth again, on top of her head.

"Bet it's as beautiful as the rest of ya," Junkrat murmurs. Angela can hear the grin in it and a giggle escapes before she can stop it, so impossibly happy she could burst. He lets go of her when the elevator stops and she gives him a gentle, playful push.

"You tease," she says, and he laughs, blushing as the door opens up. Angela steps out before him and heads over to join the others down the corridor, pulse racing while she bites back the enormous grin plastered all over her face. Junkrat is simply smug when she does look around at him, probably impressed with himself for being so charming. Good, she thinks, he should be impressed. If only she could be so bold!

Hana has booked a modest two hour slot in one of the larger rooms, meaning all of them can fit comfortably in the booth. Angela hasn't done this for years and Jesse is still feigning nonchalance, so she leaves Hana, Lúcio and Junkrat to fight over who gets the first song, Roadhog sitting with his arms folded like he's content to wait patiently for his turn. Junkrat is at the other end of the booth with Lúcio and Hana, a slight disappointment when she's been lucky enough to be near him so much today, but Angela knows she shouldn't be so greedy when she's here to have a good time with everyone else as well.

And she does. She has a brilliant time, in fact, pouring drinks in plastic cups for everyone while they cycle through a plethora of songs. Jesse loosens up considerably after a couple of drinks, eventually complaining that it's his turn, c'mon guys, it's time for some real music now, and Hana laughs, cringing as he puts on some old crooner's song. They fall about laughing at his smooth baritone, though it's actually very good, and Roadhog nods along to the music, seemingly content to just chill with the group.

Two hours pass far too quickly, so Hana buys two more. She goes through more k-pop than Angela thinks she's ever heard in her life, and even though she doesn't really know any of the songs Lúcio picks, they're wonderfully upbeat. Roadhog has a few with Junkrat, who sings with unsurprising enthusiasm even if it isn't always pitch perfect, and Angela loves it, loves his passion and total lack of inhibition. It feels like they're all letting their hair down, though. She can't recall any nights out being this much fun back in London.

Roadhog offers the microphone to Angela then, and suddenly everyone is insisting she has a sing, too.

"I thought I had already!" she says.

"Not yet. I'm sure you got the voice of an angel, doc," Jesse says, making everyone else groan. He isn't entirely sober so it comes out slightly slurred, and Angela chuckles, immediately shakes her head.

"C'mon, I'm sure there's something you wanna sing!" Lúcio says, and Hana nods wildly beside him, flushed from a combination of high-octane singing and booze.

"Lemme see," Junkrat says, frowning in concentration as he scrolls through a list of songs. He selects a duet from an old musical, something famous enough to have endured decades and decades of popularity. Angela prickles from an equal mixture of hope and dread at the idea of being asked to actually sing this one, unsure if she'd be more embarrassed or delighted to sing something so romantic with him.

Roadhog offers her the mic again, but Angela hesitates, feeling the heat on her face from everyone looking at her so hopefully. God, she really isn't any good at singing, and it feels so obvious that he's chosen something like this for them. She's thrilled, of course, but-

"Go on, doc, give us a song!" Junkrat says, grinning encouragingly across at her.

Doc? It's…. well, it's probably what the others would expect him to say. Have they even heard him call her Angie before?

Wait. Is… is he trying to be covert about this?

"Oh, go on then," she laughs, finally. Junkrat cheers – they all do actually - and Angela covers her face, cringing from how much attention she's inadvertently drawn to herself.

She sings with him, though, laughing helplessly at Junkrat's gusto through the song and at the whooping and clapping that follows when they're finished. Angela doesn't think she's ever been so embarrassed in her life, but she's ecstatic that she's been able to sing something with him after all, that they've all been kind even though she knows she isn't any good. Angela feels sad when she hands back the mic, not because she wants to sing again but because she can't believe they didn't do this before. The dread of potential humiliation just melts away when everyone is so encouraging, just wanting to have a good time together. Angela sings a few more songs afterwards, spurred on by the sugar from their snacks and copious amounts of liquid courage. Karaoke is far more fun than she remembered the last time she tried it.

Junkrat surprises everyone when he reveals a hipflask just as they're finishing off the last cans of chūhai, and it's filled with something so potent Angela is too afraid to ask what it is. She's able to dilute it a little with soda, at least, but as he passes it around it seems to hit everyone like a truck, and soon they're all howling, falling about themselves as the song choices become increasingly outrageous and their sobriety comes to an end.

By the time their session is over the table is littered with empty cans and plastic cups, and Angela is vaguely alarmed to check her phone and see that it's already 2am. In the back of her mind is the notion of needing to be up early in the morning for their flight, but it's drowned out when they're leaving because Hana is literally crying with laughter about something as she stumbles into the elevator, and Lúcio swoops in to catch her while laughing as well. Angela is tugged into the elevator with them before she has time to look around for Junkrat, but she wants to be with him more than ever right now, craving more physicality as it's been so many hours since she sat with him.

Angela is drunk enough to recognise that it's a miracle when they reach the train station unscathed, but she isn't in quite the same state as Lúcio and Hana, screeching as they collapse into a three seat row once they're all inside the carriage. She's also aware that they're being far louder than they really should, but it's so late that there aren't many other passengers on the train aside from similarly inebriated salarymen. Jesse goes and sits with them, quieter but probably just as drunk judging by the redness of his face and the way he slurs his request to join them.

"Better go look after the kids," Roadhog grunts, shaking his head as he goes to sit opposite them. Junkrat snickers, and then Angela finds herself sitting next to him again, just the two of them this time on a row of seats further away from the others.

"Hello," she says, grinning when he looks at her. The train pulls away and she allows her body to shift with it, until her arm is pressed heavily against his. Junkrat laughs, a loud, hearty sound, and he slings his arm around her shoulders again, his metal one this time. It's a heavy, comforting weight, and he smells wonderful, sweet from the canned cocktails but still with that dirty diesel scent on his skin.

"Bloody hell, Angie, never thought I'd see ya half cut like this," he says. "You gonna be alright?"

"You're not exactly the picture of sobriety yourself," she says, cheek flat against his shoulder and smiling. Why does drinking make it so easy to be physical like this? Angela wishes she could do this all the time, that she had the courage to grab Junkrat and cuddle him whenever she damn well pleased.

"S'pose I can give ya that," he sighs. He's keeping his arm around her, though. Angela's arm moves before she can stop it, until her hand is over the pocket on the front of his hoodie. If she can use the excuse of being terribly drunk then maybe the others won't question it if they notice. Angela isn't sure she would care right now even if they did, though. Hopefully she won't be too embarrassed about all of this in the morning.

"Hey," she says then, lifting her head up to frown at him. Junkrat pulls back just enough to look at her questioningly but his arm is still over her shoulders.

"What?"

"You- why did you call me doc?"

"Did I?"

"Yes. Back in – back in there. Why?"

Junkrat scowls, glancing down to the floor like he's thinking. Then his eyes widen a bit.

"Oh, right, I did. Yeah. Uh… well, I dunno," he laughs, nervously. "It's probably stupid."

Angela pulls away so she can sit up and face him properly.

"No, come on, tell me."

Junkrat scratches his cheek. He's still not looking at her but he's grinning to himself, like he did that time in her car. Did that really happen? It was so long ago Angela is afraid she might've imagined it. It feels like she's living in a dream even now, sitting here with her fingers gripped in the soft fabric of his hoodie. It's frightening that his stomach is beneath her hand, that she can imagine how smooth and warm his skin would feel on hers.

"Dunno, I just, uh. Sorta like having me own name for ya," Junkrat says, going red. He's looking at her again, gazing now. "Don't really want the others hearing it."

Angela's heart is doing that thing, that – that thing where it squeezes so hard it hurts. Junkrat is smirking like he always does when he's saying something he knows she'll like, but Angela frowns, suddenly realising something.

"Well, that's not fair," she says. Junkrat frowns back.

"Not fair?"

"No." She glances over him – his dirty face, wild hair, the splashes of oil on his hoodie from the ramen. If only she could pull it off him and shove it in the washing machine. "It's not fair at all. Not when I don't have a name for you."

"Oh," Junkrat says, surprised. "Oh right. No, I s'pose that ain't really fair, is it?"

Angela hmms. "How about James?"

Junkrat recoils, poking his tongue out. "Eugh, no bloody way. Brings back memories of too many detentions."

"Oh dear, that's no good. And I'm guessing Jamison is still out of the question," she says. Junkrat shakes his head.

"Nah, too long."

He straightens up too, mirroring her, and looks at her like he's still thinking about it. Then Junkrat leans in towards her, pulls gently around her shoulders so she has to meet him half way. She thinks he's going to kiss her, but he misses her mouth and goes for her ear instead, close enough for his breath to tickle. Angela shivers.

"Why don'tcha call me Jamie?" he whispers, then.

It feels like he's just shared a precious secret. She gapes when he pulls back, something shy and soft about the way he smiles at her. Angela nods, needing to agree to this immediately even though she's suddenly incapable of vocalising any actual words.

"Fair?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Fair," she says, nodding again, locking it down. She notices Junkrat – no, Jamie, he's Jamie now - glance over her shoulder to the others. Then he's pulling her into another cuddle, and Angela flops into him, grateful that he didn't kiss her. She wouldn't want such an intimate moment to happen in front of everybody else, regardless of whether or not they're looking.

It's strange to think of him as Jamie, a soft name when he's been Junkrat for all the time she's known him. But it suits him, she thinks, moving her hand up so that it's over his chest while her head is still resting on his shoulder. Jamie. Maybe it won't take as long to get used to as she thinks.

"Y'know what," he mumbles, the deepness of his voice reverberating through Angela's chest. She goes to look up at him but he's got his head rested on hers so she can't see his expression.

"What?"

"Wish I'd bloody told you back then."

"Told me what? When?"

"When y'said you were single n'all that, back at your place." Jamie sighs. "Chickened out, didn't I."

Angela grips his hoodie. Somehow, in the midst of all their texts, all these moments they've shared in what little time they've had, she'd totally forgotten about that.

"What did you want to say?" Angela asks quietly, her eyes wide now, staring at his neck. There are some dark freckles dotted over it. She's too scared to look into his eyes anyway, overwhelmed just from this.

"I'll tell ya later," Jamie says. "When we're back home. At yours."

Angela scoffs. Her heart is thudding. She can feel his thudding too.

"What if you forget?" she asks. Worse still, what if I do, again?

"I won't," he says, squeezing her. "Don't worry."

Angela swallows, fragile in his arms. It feels like they've said so much without saying anything at all, and she doesn't know how much more of this she can take. They need to get home - wishes they were there right now - but there's ages left, too many stops between them. God, there's been nothing but stops between them this entire time.

She's comfortable enough to doze on him as the train carries them through the city. Angela just about manages to rouse herself in time for them to make their stop, but it's an effort to extract herself from the warmth of Jamie's body. She gets up, though, stumbling over to the door with him close behind, and then the others get up to join her, Lúcio now supporting an incredibly drunk Hana. She feels a little nauseous from the bright lights of the carriage and from standing after being cuddled up for so long, but their proximity to home makes Angela straighten up and take a few deep breaths, and it's enough to get her off the train and start leading them all through the neighbourhood.

Hana squeals loudly when Lúcio offers her a piggyback ride. Angela tries to shush her, deathly afraid of gaining a bad reputation even in her own drunken state, but her brain is feeling swampy and it's difficult while trying to maintain a straight line. Jesse and Jamie are either side of her, at least, and when she glances around to check on Roadhog he's rounding them off at the back, a bouncer on their journey home through one of the safest neighbourhoods in Tokyo.

They arrive home in what feels like no time at all. Everything's getting fuzzy, though, hours of drinking and flirting taking their toll. She's also exhausted from the emotion of it all, and even though she's trying desperately to stay awake it's getting difficult to focus, harder to hold herself up. Angela's body moves on autopilot to the kitchen because even though all she wants right now is to be with Jamie and ask what he was going to say, the instinctive duty to take care of everyone has her pouring out water instead.

"I'll take care of it," comes Roadhog's voice. Angela turns and finds him standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder a large and gentle weight. He must be the most sober one of them all. He's certainly more sober than she is.

"But- I need to," Angela starts, struggling to form the words. Shit, she's had too much. "Need to… make sure they're…"

"I said I'll take care of it," Roadhog grunts. "Rat wants you, you'd better go see him."

Rat? Who – oh, gosh, he's talking about Jamie. Angela's eyes widen.

"He- wants me?"

"Yes. Go."

Angela totters from the kitchen, slow and slurred as she looks around the house for him. She spots Jamie out by the foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Angela's having trouble focusing on him but she can feel that he's twitchy, that there's a tension about him that wasn't there before. When he notices her he seems to scowl, pushing away from the wall to hold her shoulders.

"Shit, you alright?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"Yes, amazing, wonderful," she breathes. "You- Roadhog said you wanted me."

"That bloody bastard," he mumbles, embarrassed. Angela reaches out, tugging on the front of his hoodie with both hands. She's smiling widely, wobbling where she stands.

"Did you? I mean, do you want me? I'm here."

Jamie drags his metal hand over his mouth. "Fuck," he says. "You're pissed. C'mon, lemme getcha upstairs."

"What? No, I'm not angry," Angela laughs, but then Jamie is hooking her arm over his shoulder and in the time it takes for her to blink she's in her bedroom.

"Easy," he says, gently guiding her onto the bed. Angela falls back, laughing as she goes. Everything's blurry. Why does he seem upset?

"I'm here," she says, reaching out to him, needing to comfort, wanting him close. "Stay? He said he's taking care of it. Roadhog. He's lovely, isn't he?"

Jamie laughs. He sits on the edge of the bed and shakes his head. She can hear the others downstairs, Hana and Lúcio talking loudly, a deep laugh coming from Jesse. Why does it feel like they're running out of time? They have the rest of the evening, don't they?

"Can't believe you're still flirting with him even now. Can't win, can I?" Jamie sighs. He doesn't sound annoyed, though.

"M'not," Angela mumbles, willing herself to wake up. "You know m'not."

"I know, I'm only messin' with ya."

Jamie leans over her then, brushing her hair out of her eyes. The metal of his fingers is cool across her forehead, and Angela's able to properly focus on him for a second, enough to see that he's concerned, nervous. She doesn't like him like this, looking so worried.

"You'll – stay here, won't you?" she asks.

"'Course I will, can't leave ya like this," he says, softly. "Bloody drunkard."

"M'not." Angela reaches for him again. The words are coming out before she can stop them. "Lay with me?"

"Christ, Angie," he murmurs. He's scratching his neck, something Junkrat would do even though he isn't Junkrat anymore.

"Please," she says, reaching once more, enough to tug on his sleeve. "Jamie."

"Agh. Alright, alright. Just- stay on your side, yeah?"

She rolls until she is. Angela wants to feel excited when Jamie clambers onto the bed with her, when he moves until he's flopped beside her, in front of her, keeping space between them. But Angela can't keep her eyes open long enough to look at him properly.

She thinks if she could just close them for a second it might revive her, but the next time she opens them the room is dark and everything is quiet. There's light filtering in through the blinds, enough for her to see where she is while her eyes adjust, and there's a weight over her waist, a nice feeling, something safe.

Angela is fully clothed on her bed. Her head is hurting and her throat feels awfully dry, but she's warm, really warm, close to another clothed body. Her breath leaves her when she blinks out the sleep enough to see that Jamie – oh, god, Jamie – is still lying with her. She remembers asking him to stay but the fact that he did, that he's here on her bed sleeping right in front of her, gives her goosepimples all over.

His human arm is slung over her waist, bridging the space he's left between them. There's another hand on her too, smaller and lighter. She peers behind and over her shoulder to see that it belongs to Hana, and behind her is Lúcio, both of them totally flaked out on her bed.

Trust Angela to be the first one to wake up even after an incredibly late night. She assumes it was, anyway. Doesn't matter though – she's happy to be awake if it means she gets to enjoy this, a private moment with Jamie even though there're two others in her bed.

They're not close enough, Angela decides, shuffling forwards to close the gap. Jamie is crashed out, not quite snoring but breathing heavily with parted lips and half of his face enveloped by the pillow. He makes a soft noise when she wraps her arm around his back and shifts, squeezing her, curling his body as though he needs to protect her even in his sleep. Angela melts at it, at him, hoping desperately that she didn't dream everything that happened yesterday, all the wonderful things he said.

What time is it? Angela wonders if the sun has fully risen yet. She pushes herself up so she can look over Jamie's broad shoulder and get a glimpse of her digital clock.

It's 8:22am. Their flight is at 10.

Oh, shit.

"Flight! The flight!" she says, scrambling to get up. Jamie grimaces when she gives his shoulder a gentle shake, but she can't devote herself to him – needs to wake the others up as well. Angela looks over her bed to see Roadhog and Jesse are in here as well, sprawled across three futons they appear to have dragged over the floor, and she claps loudly, insistently, calling at all of them to wake up.

It's a scramble to get themselves ready. Angela calls for a hovercab and within fifteen minutes all six of them are out of the door, groggy and hungover but on their way to the airport. Overwatch has paid for business class tickets, so if any one of them miss this flight they'll not only have to purchase their own tickets but reimburse the company for its losses, too. Panicking, Angela chews on her nails trying to calculate the cost of six business class tickets. If she doesn't have enough in her savings to foot the bill it'll only mean taking the money out of her inheritance fund, but god, she can't believe she's allowed this to happen, feels so stupid for not keeping a better track of the time.

"Chill out, wouldja?" Jesse grumbles, reaching over from the back seat to pat her shoulder. "You're stressin' me out, doc. Relax. We'll get there."

Angela is shotgun with the driver. She glances around at everyone and has to admit that even in the midst of her panicking, it's a little amusing to see four exhausted faces stare back at her. Roadhog is right at the back with his mask on and arms folded, stoic as usual, unbothered by the rush. Angela smiles.

"I know," she says, alarmed at how croaky she sounds now. "I just hope we get there on time."

The hovercab gets them to the airport quickly, and after some profuse apologies the lady covering the check-in desk collects their luggage. Angela whisks everyone through security and then, finally, with about twenty minutes to spare they're boarding the plane. She collapses into the booth when they're inside, more grateful for the comfort of business class than ever, and Jesse leans over her seat then, grinning down at her.

"See?" he says. "Nothin' to worry about."

Angela laughs, an unpleasantly hoarse sound. He walks ahead to his own seat, and with the hurricane of the morning over, she lays back in the seat and closes her eyes. It's difficult to unwind after being so stressed, but they've got a twelve hour flight ahead of them and at least she doesn't have to worry about reimbursing any tickets. Too exhausted to think, Angela curls onto her side and pulls on the complimentary eyemask, willing her body to relax enough to let her get some more sleep.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket. Angela feels like she's slept through the entire flight, but they're only halfway in when she checks the time. The cabin is dark, lights dimmed to encourage sleep, and she has to turn the brightness down on her phone, dazzled by it.

You awake?

It's Jamie. Junkrat, according to her phone, and he'd texted her about an hour ago. Angela smiles and sits up while she changes the name in her address book, and she peers out of her booth, wondering where he's sitting. She was too flustered to look out for him earlier but the business class seats mean that everyone has a private booth, so she can't see him. He might be sleeping, anyway.

I am now, she writes. Feel like death. Are you?

Jamie replies instantly.

Yeah I'm awake. Bloody worried me last night yknow :P never thought I'd see you off your face like that lol

Well, there's the embarrassment. It doesn't hit quite as hard as Angela was expecting, mostly because she's still waking up, starting to remember all the cuddling the led up to it.

Sorry. Got a bit carried away. Was having too much fun. :)

Too much? Nah no such thing as too much fun haha

Not with you, anyway, she replies, too tired to hesitate.

Jamie goes to write something and then stops. It feels strange to be texting him like this when she could just as easily get up and find him to talk in person. She feels braver this way, though. The others won't hear them either.

Careful, might start blushing :P Jamie replies. This feels conservative for him, and it makes Angela grin.

Consider it payback for all the times you've made me blush.

Ooohhhhh lol then maybe I should make you blush more often ;)

Angela purses her lips together. This could go one of two ways. Both would be absolutely fine with her, in truth, but even in her hungover and rather uninhibited state she isn't quite ready to take this too far.

If that's a challenge, then perhaps I should ask if you'd like to go out next week, she sends. It's amazing that she still has the energy to buzz from this, but adrenaline doesn't seem to care for her hangover, nor for her lack of sleep. Jamie writes back immediately.

Surprised you're even thinking about drinking after last night :P

Oh, I absolutely am, if it means going on a date with you. How about Tuesday?

Friday was tempting but too far away, and she'll need some time to recover from the jetlag. Not too much, though. Angela holds onto this text for just a moment before sending. She stares at the screen, willing him to reply instantly. He does.

Holy shit

Angela stifles a laugh. Jamie starts writing again and a flurry of messages appear.

Never thought I'd hear you say that!
Uh but yes Tuesday is fine
Great I mean!
FANTASTIC!

She does laugh at this.

Only two months late, but better late than never. :)

Too fucking right! :D

Angela puts her phone down. She needs a drink, something to do that isn't grinning at her phone like an idiot. She grabs the complimentary bottle of water to hydrate her throat, hand shaking when she replaces the cap. There's still another six hours to go until they're back in the UK, but it's fine, Angela doesn't care. Not now it's solidified, there in writing for both of them to see. She never thought they'd actually get to this point. In a way she supposes that they didn't, really, because she isn't going on a date with Junkrat after all.

She's going on a date with Jamie, instead, and Angela couldn't be happier.

The team say their goodbyes and separate when they finally touch back down in London. The shifting timezones mean they arrive on Saturday morning local time and have the entire weekend to recover. Angela is thrilled to be on her regular train to London on Monday morning despite her terrible jetlag. She was exhausted enough to sleep, at least, but it feels like her heart has been racing ever since she gave Jamie a goodbye hug outside the airport. She's been counting down the hours until Tuesday evening – they're meeting at seven, as before – and while she knows getting through the next two working days are going to be agony, she's absolutely delighted by the prospect of being occupied with work.

Genji is the last person she's expecting to see when she arrives in reception. There he is, though, standing in front of Jesse with his head in his hands and Jesse gripping his shoulders. Jesse is in his usual clothing but Genji is dishevelled, dressed in lounge pants and a shirt. What on earth is he doing here?

"What's going on?" Angela asks, rushing up to him. He's biting down hard on his lip, body convulsing where he's trying to fight the tears streaming down his face.

"It's Zenyatta," Jesse tells her. He doesn't look away from Genji, and before Angela can ask Winston and Lena are running over to them, too.

"Doc!" Lena says, grabbing her into a brief hug. She looks terrified. "Oh, thank god you're in!"

Winston puts his hand on Angela's shoulder then, grimacing. Oh no. Please no.

"What's happened?" she asks, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"We're not sure," he tells her, gravely. "Zenyatta reported malaise last night and we got him on the first flight out, but his body started going into shutdown so the on-board doctors put him into an induced coma. He's here now, we've not long since admitted him."

"Right," Angela says. "Okay. I'm going to need you to tell me everything on my way up."

Winston obliges her as they catch the elevator up to medical. She's focused when they reach the ward, running through a mental checklist of the last examinations she conducted with Zen. Winston has given her some information to work with, but when she's at Zenyatta's bedside looking over his perfectly still body, Angela is lost for a cause. She thought she'd contained and eradicated the virus entirely. Why, why has his shutdown been triggered like this?

There's no time for jetlag. Angela has Zenyatta wheeled through into the nanotechnology department because she needs him wired up for monitoring while he's in stasis, but the induced coma means she's limited with what she can check. Monday flies past. Winston is kind enough to bring her lunch and something else for dinner, but it's been over ten hours since she came into work and Angela is no closer to a solution to this, to knowing what in the hell is wrong with him. Winston tells her to leave at some point before midnight, but how can she when Zenyatta's life is on the line? She should've stayed in Japan for longer, watched over him properly. Caught this sooner rather than risk his life just through wanting to get home quickly.

She wakes up on Tuesday morning having fallen asleep at her desk. Angela is horrendously groggy – thinks she got three, maybe four hours of sleep – and makes time to get herself a black coffee ready to begin wading through Zenyatta's code once again. Her phone has been vibrating occasionally but checking it doesn't cross her mind, too distracted with fixing this, fixing him. By lunchtime even Lena is on her case telling her to go home, take the afternoon off and start fresh on Wednesday seeing as Zenyatta is technically stable. Angela declines as politely as she can, because this is her responsibility, this is her problem to fix, and she needs to work quickly in case whatever is afflicting Zenyatta gets worse.

The medical department is on the same floor as engineering, and there's a shared research area that isn't used much by Torbjörn's team. Angela needs to get out of her office and it's a more comfortable environment to work in anyway, printouts spread across one of the tables in here so she can stand and just look at all the numbers on something other than a screen. It's clearer, easier to digest like this, and she thinks she might be getting close to figuring out what the problem is when the door opens. Angela almost doesn't look, assuming it's Winston bringing up some lunch.

"Hey. Angie. Angie!"

It's Jamie. He's standing in the doorway holding up a takeout box, smiling sadly at her. Angela goes to ask what he's doing here until she remembers that this is where he's based now, too, and she smiles, some of the tension loosening from seeing him. He's in his work gear - a tank top and cargo shorts, greased up from whatever he's been working on. Twitchy, she thinks, moreso than usual as he steps over.

"Sorry," she says, back to looking at the papers. "I thought it was Winston, to be honest."

Jamie sets the takeout box down beside her and leans against the table.

"Nah, he's gone already," he says. "Thought I'd bring ya some dinner."

Angela blinks, glancing up at him.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah. Just some – I think it's chili or somethin'," he says, scratching his neck. "Cafeteria was about to close so I just got whatever."

Angela holds his eyes. "I thought it was lunchtime," she says, heart sinking. Jamie laughs, shakes his head. He looks away from her.

"It's, uh. Almost six, actually."

"Oh my god," Angela says, softly. She'd completely forgotten. "Jamie, I-"

"S'alright, not a big deal. I get it."

Everything about him, from the way he's standing to the way he says it, screams that he's upset. Angela reaches out to touch his metal arm, and he meets her eyes then, frowning.

"Haven'tcha been here all day and night already?" he asks, looking at her searchingly. "You're gonna make y'self ill, keep staying here like this."

"I don't really have a choice," she says, trying to smile at him. He doesn't smile back. "There's no point in going home when I'm more likely to sleep better here. Besides, it's my responsibility to resolve this. I wouldn't feel right leaving him."

Jamie laughs. It's a scathing sound, and he folds his arms then, glaring over at the door.

"Ch'yeah, right. Your responsibility that the omnic's causing more problems. Of course."

"What? The 'omnic' you're talking about is Zenyatta," she says, frowning at him now, something about his tone making her skin crawl. This doesn't sound like him at all.

"Why d'you keep blaming yourself for this? None of it's your fault but you're always talkin' like it is!" Jamie says, irritably.

"How is it not my fault?" she scoffs. "I've clearly missed something somewhere for this to happen. Should've stayed in Japan longer, kept a closer eye on him."

"Oh yeah? And what, stayed out there for how long?" he asks, scowling. "Another month? Another year? Just – at his bloody beck and call?"

"If- if that's what it takes, then yes, perhaps," Angela says, busying herself with the papers. She's beginning to feel sick, an acute nausea that worsens when Jamie laughs.

"Great, sure. Spend the rest of your fucking life out there why don'tcha," he mutters, pushing away from the desk then, agitated. Angela glares at him, dread pooling in her belly. What's happening to him? Why is he saying such horrible things?

"I understand that you're upset, Jamie, but Zenyatta's in a coma, for god's sake!"

"So what if he's in a coma?" he snaps, bitterly. He turns sharply, scowling at her, throwing his hands up. "Zenyatta or not, he's an omnic, ain't he? What does it matter if he is?"

Angela steps back, laughing out a breath. "I can't believe I'm hearing this," she says. It's like everything is crumbling before her eyes, infatuation burning to dust in the pit of her stomach.

"What? Can't believe I'm- worried about you wasting your life over some fucking scrap metal?" he says, menacingly.

Angela flinches. "Don't- Jamie, don't call him that!"

"That's what he is, he's a fucking heap of metal! No flesh or blood, no fucking soul! You're worrying about a goddamn shell!" he shouts, so angrily it's frightening.

"What's wrong with you!" she cries.

"I'm human, Angie, that's what's fucking wrong!" Jamie yells, throwing his arms out.

"I don't even know who I'm talking to right now," she says, trembling, tears pricking her eyes.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?!" Jamie asks, incredulously, like he isn't the heartless stranger standing in front of her.

"Just – get out!" she tells him, shaking. "I don't want to look at you anymore!"

Jamie's face pulls into something so stricken she may as well have slapped him. Angela turns away from him, gripping the desk to steady herself. She's scared she's going to throw up, about to choke on the lump that's stuck inside her throat.

"Right. Sure. Won't fucking bother next time," he snaps, and she can hear him move, the heavy clunking of his leg against the floor. The door slams moments later, a shockwave that cuts straight through Angela's body. She pulls up a chair and slumps into it, covering her face in her hands and allowing a sob to heave out of her chest, pulled from the depths of her stomach.

She's disgusted. So furious she doesn't even know what to do with herself. But worse, worse than any of that, is the distinct feeling that she knows exactly who she was talking to. The feeling that in all this time she's been blind to it, but it's clear, now, overwhelmingly obvious. Jamie, Junkrat, the name doesn't matter. That was him.

That man just now, standing in here shouting such awful, callous things at her, was him.